


Let It Snow

by Divine_Drivel



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: Casablanca References, First Kiss, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Not Britpicked, Snowed In
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-29 15:39:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19022875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Divine_Drivel/pseuds/Divine_Drivel
Summary: London is experiencing a rare snow and ice storm, causing much of the city to lose power, including the office on Denmark Street. Robin invites Cormoran to camp out at hers until power is restored. Lots of powdery, white fluff in the forecast ;)





	Let It Snow

**Author's Note:**

> First thing- I've only just set up an account a couple of weeks ago and have changed my handle twice (usernames are hard!). I posted two earlier works as BeGentleItsMyFirstTime but that felt creepy after a while so I think I will be sticking with Divine_Drivel.
> 
> Anyhoo, here in North Carolina (US) it is.. how do I put this delicately.. hot as balls. I usually like to watch Christmas movies or listen to Christmas music when I want a cure for the swamp ass, but this scenario came to me and I couldn't resist! I didn't realize snow storms were so rare in London so forgive me if anything seems unrealistic about the setting.
> 
> And again, not trying to step on the toes of her majesty the kween Lulaisakitten with a first kiss, but I find that I love a pining Robin and Strike so I usually imagine their coming together as a "realization" or a "first". Hope you all like it!

Denmark Street was uncharacteristically quiet on this snowy January evening. Little of the steady hum of traffic, motor horns, or buskers that had become like white noise to Strike could be heard. The local weather service had predicted that London would accumulate heavy ice and snowfall up to 26 cm over the next two days, leaving its residents bracing for a storm the likes of which had not been seen for decades. A halt on rail and bus service was announced and motorists were urged to stay off the roads if at all possible, as surrounding areas of Britain were expected to be hit even harder.

Strike listened to the warnings of mass outages on his small battery-powered radio, as his building was already without electricity. With no lights in the office or in his attic flat, he was defenseless against Robin’s insistence to collect him in the Land Rover and for him to sleep on her sofa for the next night or two. He had grudgingly packed a couple days worth of clothes into a hold all, as well as his last pack of fags and the two remaining bottles of lager in his fridge. 

Strike’s mobile buzzed and he answered brusquely, “Hi, Robin. Headed down now.” “Do you need me to come up and help you carry anything?” Robin asked casually. “Nope,” he replied, "I just have one bag. Thought I’d travel light. Don’t worry, I’m wearing two jumpers under my coat and I’ve packed plenty of socks.” “Right, then,” said Robin with a laugh, “I’m just out front. Plenty of parking tonight for some reason.” Strike grinned as he cut the call, stepping out the door onto the street. The Land Rover was mere steps away and Robin already had the boot opened for him to throw in his hold-all. 

“Now this is what I call five-star service,” he said, as he slid into the front seat, careful not to slip on the several centimeters of snow already on the ground. “We aim to please,” she said with a grin, looking ahead and pulling back onto the street. There seemed to be more cars on the road than before, no doubt motorists hoping to squeeze in one last run to the markets and chemists before they shut down. “Are we stopping for supplies?” Strike asked, wishing he had made a beer run earlier in the day. “Not unless you need something in particular,” said Robin, glancing in his direction. “Nope, I’m all set,” he said, not wanting to further inconvenience her.

Strike wondered if he was imagining the charged silence between them, or if perhaps they were both simply taking in the sights of London slowly being covered in the blanket of white. “We have arrived, sir,” Robin announced with a feigned air of formality. Strike gave his best smirk and tried not to take too audible a deep breath as he exited the vehicle and walked round back to grab his hold-all from the boot. Robin led him to the birdcage lift, which was mercifully in working order, and they ascended to her flat on the third floor. 

Strike knew the way- he had visited the shared flat several times since she moved in with Ilsa’s actor friend Declan. Still, he had never entered her flat with the intention of staying longer than a few hours, let alone the entire night. He maintained what he hoped was a polite distance back from Robin, letting her unlock the door, walk in, and turn on the lights before she stepped back out with a wide-eyed grin, “What are you- a vampire? Do I have to give you a formal invite?” Strike bent down, trying not to let her see him flustered. “Oh no.. I just had to.. adjust my leg..” he lied. “Oh,” said Robin, “Carry on, then.” Strike stood back up, forging ahead through the door of the flat. “S’ fine.. I’ve got it sorted now.”

Upon entering, he took in the now-familiar scent of rose oil billowing from the diffuser Robin and her flatmate kept on the small table by the door. “So where’s Declan?” he asked, noticing the second bedroom door was closed. “He’s shooting in Prague until next week- got a small role in a big film! We’re very excited about it!” said Robin, with genuine cheerfulness. “Yeah, that’s great!” proclaimed Strike, and he hoped his raised eyebrows and toothy smile conveyed excitement at Declan’s acting gig, instead of the prospect of spending a night alone with Robin. 

“Right!” she said, walking into the small kitchen and opening the pantry. “I started stocking up a few days ago, so I think we’re well-equipped.” Strike saw an assortment of non-perishable foods like soups, noodles, biscuits, crisps, and bread. Then she opened up the fridge. In addition to a decent amount of produce, he saw deli meats and cheeses, eggs, bottled water, wine, and.. be still his heart.. a 24-can box of Doom Bar. “Wow!” he exclaimed, “You really did stock up, didn’t you?” The crinkles on the sides of his eyes were highly pronounced as he stood, grinning from ear to ear. “I thought you might appreciate that,” said Robin with a wink. I also grabbed you a carton of Benson & Hedges, in case you were running low. He looked at her with heartfelt fondness, “Now I’ll never have to leave!” “That’s the plan,” she said with a sly grin. 

Strike cleared his throat, “So. Shall we watch a film or..” “Erm.. sure..” she said, “And let me tell you.. Declan’s got quite the collection.” Declan’s collection was an assortment of all the genres of film Strike was least interested in: stage plays, musicals, romantic comedies, and a few black and white classics. They eventually settled on Casablanca. The small flat required strategic placement of the three-piece sitting room set and, of course, the two-seater was the only piece of furniture that afforded its occupants a clear view of the television screen. Two throw pillows between them for safety, Robin and Strike sat side-by-side on the reclining chair. He was quite comfortable with his leg elevated and a warm fleece throw on his lap. Robin wore a baggy jumper, leggings, and cozy socks. Her intermittent shivers caused Strike to throw half of the blanket over to her. She smiled at him with a silent “thank you” and removed one of the two pillows separating them, placing it behind the small of her back. “Sorry, my back’s a little stiff, mind if I take one of these?” she asked him innocently. “Course not,” he said with a smile, “My back’s a bit knackered too- think I might do the same.” He picked up the second pillow and placed it firmly behind the small of his own back. It was more comfortable, he had to admit, even if his mirroring her actions had nothing to do with lumbar support. 

Their outer thighs now touching, feeling the other’s body heat under the blanket, Strike and Robin tried to concentrate on the penultimate scene of the film. As Rick cradled Ilsa’s tearful face in his hand and delivered the famous line, “Here’s looking at you, kid,” Strike snuck a covert look over at Robin, who caught his not-so-stealthy glance. “What?” she said, laughing, “Did you think I’d be weepy or something?” Strike laughed, “It’s a powerful moment, Robin! It’s the best part of the entire film!” On queue, Robin stood on her knees and leaned over toward him, and he gently grabbed onto her chin with his hand. “But what about us?” she asked, her blue eyes bright. Strike swallowed. “We’ll always have Paris,” he said, hoarsely. All at once, he smelled her perfume, smelled the fruity scent of her shampoo, smelled the notes of pear from the white wine on her breath. He let go of her chin but did not lean back- he would let her decide how to proceed.

Robin closed her eyes and leaned in farther, lightly brushing his lips with hers. She opened her eyes and leaned back slightly, so as to survey his reaction. Strike was smiling contentedly, his lips still parted in wonder. He placed his hands tentatively on her hips, then seeing her nod and smile, he pulled her onto his lap, running one hand through her golden hair and the other up her back. “Robin,” he breathed, as he moved his left hand down from her hair to caress her face. She relished his warm, strong touch and took hold of his hand, kissing the inside of his palm. She cupped his face in her hands and leaned down again, kissing him slowly and tenderly. “Cormoran,” she managed, in between kisses.

The television suddenly switched off and Robin supposed one of them had sat on the clicker. Then she noticed the pendant lights in the kitchen were off as well and she and Strike were in almost total darkness. “Bugger,” she said, “Looks like our power's gone, too.” The only light that remained shone from the ivy-scented candle on the coffee table in front of them. Strike gazed up at Robin’s face as it glowed in the soft light, shadows playing lightly around her hair as the candle flickered. She had never looked more beautiful, he thought. “It’s my opinion that electricity is highly overrated,” he said, as he smiled and gently lowered her chin back down toward his lips.

**Author's Note:**

> I chose not to use smut because I wanted this to be sweet, but I will probably add a chapter of smuttiness- this scenario is too delicious not to! :P 
> 
> Also, I really appreciate a good britpicking, so if you would like to list some things I overlooked or misused, please do!
> 
> Aaaand finally- SWOON Rick & Ilsa = Nick & Ilsa! MIND BLOWN! Totally did not put that together until after I decided to use Casablanca! <3


End file.
